


One of Us

by valderys



Category: Merlin (BBC), Oliver! - Bart
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: camelotsolstice, Crossover, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-02
Updated: 2010-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-11 10:11:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valderys/pseuds/valderys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Twist is in a bad way - he's on the streets of London without a farthing to his name, and he hasn't eaten for a week. So how come the magic fingers of a boy with flashing blue eyes and a top hat are so fascinating?</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my_maverick](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my_maverick).



> Written in 2009 as a pinch hit in about three days - and a Victorian AU was requested, although not one based on Oliver!, I admit! :)

He was Arthur Twist, and maybe that name didn't mean anything to anyone, but that didn't mean he was going to let himself be treated like nothing, not by anyone, never mind by those sour Sowerberry's or that clotpole Claypole.

He tugged his tattered jacket about him, and tried not to shiver, as he slowly walked through the streets of London, no longer caring where he was going. He couldn't sit, not in the daytime, he'd only get moved on again, and if he kept moving, he was warmer than if he stayed still. Or that's what he told himself, anyway. After a week with no proper rest, and precious little food - an apple fallen off a barrow and half-trodden in the mud. A carrot filched from a horse's nose-bag, and him apologising to the horse - Arthur reckoned that things were coming to an end pretty soon. He wondered whether starvation or pride would be the end of him. If he took himself back to Mr Bumble then he might be arrested but at least they'd feed him, if only the orphanage gruel. Wouldn't they? His uncertainty and the stiff-necked pride he had been accused of all his life, was all that was standing between him and just lying down and giving up.

Arthur was contemplating such things, life and death, all of that, while leaning against the railings in a busy bustling square of some kind. There was a market there, he noticed, plenty to watch, plenty of hot chestnut and pie stalls to torture himself with, and Arthur was just resting his legs a moment before moving on, honestly, when he noticed... him.

He was a boy much like himself, although Arthur guessed he was maybe a year or two older - it was hard to tell. Arthur believed he himself had fifteen summers, but he wasn't sure, because they didn't encourage dwelling on such things at the orphanage. The boy was an inch taller certainly, with a shock of curly black hair, at least what could be seen of it, under the tall, disreputable-looking top hat. In fact, Arthur revised his opinion, it was the hat that made him look taller, surely? And then he wondered why it mattered so much to him. It was the lightness of his head and stomach talking, no doubt.

But still, the boy fascinated him, and Arthur lingered long past his usual self-imposed break, watching him and longing. He wasn't sure what for - the boy was obviously just as poor as he, but it was his confidence perhaps, his jaunty tipping of his hat to the patrons who wandered past his small table that caught Arthur's eye. His long slim fingers lightning quick at showing each client the Lady and then turning the cards face down and shifting them about. Sometimes it was a pea under a shell, for those that fancied a change, and at others it was a demonstration of prestidigitation, such as coin folding, or rope cutting, for a small bet.

Arthur watched him, and sometimes the punter won, followed by a quick smile from the boy, the flash of coins exchanged, and sometimes they lost, but no-one seemed to go away unhappy, even then, for the boy had a line in quicksilver patter that made the most disgruntled of his losers laugh and shake their heads. It was truly fascinating, because Arthur couldn't see how he was doing it, which he supposed was the point, but still.

Arthur itched to have a go, but he didn't even have a farthing to his name, not even to feed himself, so it wasn't as though he could waste money, and have this boy's bright blue eyes fastened on his face, laughing and gasping at him in sudden joy or commiseration. He might want that, for some unknown reason beyond his control, he might want this boy's regard, but he wasn't about to risk...

The boy was staring at him.

Arthur found his heart beating hard in his chest. He'd wanted this boy to see him, and now he had, but Arthur was trembling, and he didn't know why. Then behind him, where the boy couldn't see, he spotted two burly policemen making their way through the crowd, obviously heading this way. His eyes must have widened or something because suddenly the little table in front of the boy was whisked clean of paraphernalia, its legs folded up until it was merely a baize-covered bit of board with a handle, and the boy was pushing his way towards Arthur, and then past him, grabbing a handful of his jacket on the way.

"My name's the Artful Dodger, or Merlin, to my friends," he said, as he began slipping through the crowd like an eel, towing Arthur like a particularly gaping fish, "And now would be the time to run."

Arthur closed his mouth and ran.

***

 

Merlin took Arthur - and really, _Merlin_, of all things. It couldn't be his real name - to a grating, an entrance to a sewer, he supposed, and then grinned at him.

"Go on then," he said.

Arthur's head was still spinning, and he'd just run a huge distance, for no real reason, and this boy was grinning at him, like he was expected to know... What was he expected to know?

"Look, I don't understand. I don't even know why I'm here. I should go." Arthur found he was rather cross now, despite the boy's eyes still crinkling at their corners, and being so blue, and the tug that Arthur was feeling...

"Consider yourself at home," the boy tried, and bowed, with a mock courtly gesture towards the grating. Arthur was fed up. He didn't like being laughed at. His hands balled into fists at his sides, but instead of lashing out, like he really wanted to, he hunched his shoulders and turned away. It wasn't this boy's fault that Arthur was there, after all. He shouldn't have followed him.

"I don't know what game you're playing, but I'm not staying here to be made fun of," he managed to get out, and walked all of three steps too, before the boy grabbed his arm. "Wait!"

"Look..." said Arthur, or tried to, as he was pulled around. But unfortunately the run, or maybe almost a week without food, had taken its toll. He was dizzy all of a sudden, and trying to tear himself out of Merlin's hold made him more so. His last thought, as the blackness came out of nowhere to swallow him up, was how horribly embarrassing it was that he'd just fainted into Merlin's arms like a girl. Or into a heap on the floor - but neither one held much appeal, if he was being honest. The last thing he heard was Merlin calling his name, "Arthur!" He sounded frantic.

When Arthur came to, he was lying on something soft, and there was a delicious aroma in the air. He sat up, or tried to, because his head was still swimming abominably. He caught a glimpse of colourful cloths hanging from the ceiling, and a jumbled mish-mash of furniture before the pain in his head meant he couldn't see much of anything. He let out an involuntary groan. Abruptly, there was a rumbling sound that shook his bones, which Arthur rather thought meant they were near railway tracks, and didn't help his head at all, when suddenly there was a solid arm around his shoulder, and a cool hand on his forehead. It helped, somehow, although Arthur couldn't have said how.

"Oh, leave the poor boy alone," said someone, a male someone, Arthur thought, if his acerbic imperious tone was anything to go by.

"But he's ill," said Merlin, breathless with some strained emotion, "Gaius, what if he's really ill, what if he's... He just fell into my arms."

Well, that answered that question. There was a snorting noise that meant that the unseen Gaius didn't seem impressed by it either, and Arthur pushed himself out of Merlin's embrace rather hurriedly, flailing his arms. Merlin went 'ow', and pushed himself backwards across the bed, rubbing at his nose, looking reproachful. Arthur magnanimously decided to ignore the whisper of 'prat' that he thought followed.

"There," said Gaius, "I warrant he just needs a bit of feeding up. What do you think, your Highness?"

He worried about the nickname, that couldn't be good, but they had food! Food they were willing to share! Arthur realised that the delicious scent was the smell of sausages frying, and now he could hear them, sizzling in their own juices no doubt. He licked his lips, and his tummy rumbled. He nodded quickly.

"Yes, please, sir," he said.

Gaius was sat by the fire, Arthur could see now, an old man with long grey hair and a patched robe, stirring a frying pan sat on a griddle. He got up, holding onto the bed for a second before making his way over to him. Arthur realised as he came closer that Gaius was sitting on an old orange box, and that the rest of the 'furniture' was equally disreputable. The cloths hanging from the ceiling were handkerchiefs, now he came to look at them. The same as the boy with the hat was wearing around his neck.

Then in the murky depths of the place he caught sight of a bright pair of eyes, that made him jump with the unexpectedness of it. He felt all wonky and off-balance, and stood staring until Gaius snorted again. He heard giggling.

"Don't pay any attention to _them_," he said, "That's just Gwen and Morgana, who'll come out when they're ready." He raised his voice a little. "Or they won't get any supper."

The giggling was stifled, Arthur thought, rather than stopped, but he didn't have any attention left for them, all he could see were the sausages that Gaius was spooning onto a plate and holding out to him, together with a fork.

But before he could take them, however good they were, however fantastic they smelled, there was something he had to know... "You've been so kind, sir, but I must ask. Are you..? Is this..? Am I eating the profits of iniquity?" Gaius raised an eyebrow, but Arthur stumbled on. "I've heard of them, and I couldn't, my conscience... Is this a thieves' den?"

There was the thump of two sets of boots, solid and hob-nailed, as two beautiful lasses, who might have been merry to see if they weren't currently looking like thunder clouds, slid into view from deep amongst the nooks and crannies of this place.

"I'll have you know," said the girl with the pale skin and tumbling dark tresses, her hands on her hips, "That me and Gwen sewed each and every one of these here nosewipes, and I resent the implication."

There was a laugh that hastily transmuted itself into a cough as Arthur looked round, and caught Merlin with his hand stuffed into his mouth, his eyes sparkling gaily. Arthur felt foolish, but stuck his chin out even so. "You must admit that your choice of abode does look like a... lair."

"And yours was so much better?" Gaius interjected gently, and Arthur felt more than foolish, he felt... guilty.

"I apologise," he said, sincerely, and took and ate the sausages. It was the most delicious meal of his whole life.

***

 

It was getting late, Arthur thought. He'd realised a little daylight was coming in through a leaded skylight, that occasionally had the shadow of people's feet crossing over it, and noticed that twilight was drawing in. Morgana and Gwen had disappeared to wherever girls disappear to, and Gaius was napping in front of the fire. He himself felt warm, and fed, and comfortable. He didn't know when he'd felt so good. The orphanage had never been anything like this, and as for sleeping with the coffins at the Sowerberry's... Well.

He felt another kind of warmth at his shoulder and looked up into Merlin's smiling eyes. Arthur couldn't help it, he had to smile back, Merlin had been like his fairy godmother today, if he didn't mind the comparison. Arthur watched as Merlin blinked at him, looking dazed. Or maybe, Arthur amended, the boy was merely a halfwit who followed the paths only fools and angels tread. It was hard to tell.

He beckoned then to Arthur, and put a finger on his lips. Arthur stole away quietly, back to the little bed in the alcove, and sat next to him. He wondered what he could say. Thank you seemed so inadequate.

"The others will be back soon," said Merlin, at last, "Lancelot and Gawain and Leon. Percival and Tristan, all the others." He seemed to be searching Arthur's face for something. "Do you know any of them?"

Arthur shook his head, "No, not that I know of. Do they do the same thing you do? Magic tricks to entertain passers-by?"

"Sort of." Merlin seemed to be looking impatient, and Arthur couldn't really understand it. "Some of them do sword swallowing, and firebreathing. Some do juggling. I'm the only one who's magic." He smiled sadly.

"And you all live here, in this... not-lair." He watched for a twitch of Merlin's lips and got it. A smug sort of warmth trickled its way into his belly.

"Most of us. There's a shop too, just a little one - for the stuff we make. There's a room above it too, for when one of us is ill - it's less damp," he explained.

Arthur was glad to hear that, it might mean he wouldn't be completely useless after all, "I've worked in a shop. Not the same, of course, but I've been taught to count, and to book-keep." His brow furrowed as he thought about how he was thrown out. "I haven't got any apprentice papers though, Sowerberry said I didn't deserve them after he caught me fighting." He clamped his mouth shut at that, just the memories making him angry. He'd only been two years away from the end of his apprenticeship too.

"What happened?" Merlin's voice could be awfully gentle sometimes, Arthur realised. He looked away, his eyes pricking.

"Their journeyman, a sot and a suck-up by the name of Claypole, insulted my mother, called her whore and worse..." He stopped. He refused to think about it. "She died when I was born."

"That's terrible," said Merlin, and threw another of his damnably friendly arms around him. Really, this couldn't go on - they'd only just met today. There hadn't been much physical affection in the orphanage, and none at all during his time at the undertakers, Arthur wasn't sure what to do. Really, it was too much, this day, all of it, the food, and the place to stay, and most of all this easy companionship that Merlin seemed determined to foist upon him. Arthur didn't mean to, but it was too _much_ \- he shoved Merlin away.

"I'm sorry," said Merlin, and when Arthur looked up from the balled-up fists in his lap, he caught the shine of moisture in Merlin's eyes. Oh balls. Oh buggeration.

"My fault," he offered gruffly, "Can't help it. I didn't mean to do it. I push everyone away..."

He stopped with a mmph kind of noise. It seemed Merlin wasn't the type to let himself be pushed away. Arthur had never felt this before, had never been kissed by anyone, not even on the cheek, and this was much, much more. Merlin's lips were warm, and a little bit chapped, and as he moved them against Arthur's there was that tiny catch of skin. It sent a bolt of lightning to his stomach, to his groin, such as he had never known, like a revelation, or a promise. He opened his mouth to protest, and Merlin dived right in, pushing the advantage, his hat falling right off, grasping at Arthur's shoulders, just as desperate as Arthur, it seemed to him. And his tongue was hot, and swept against Arthur's own like a brand, that painted him in heat, until he felt like he was on fire, his skin flushed, a burning torch of a man ready to incinerate the world, or at least their own little corner of it.

He gasped then, as something burned through, as so many things clicked, as though spun on their axis, and then slotted in again at ninety degrees, but correctly at last, right again, the world not revolving like a top any more, and he still there with Merlin's tongue down his throat, the way it was meant to be. So Arthur kissed him back, it seemed the thing to do.

He broke the kiss at last, with a shout. He couldn't stop smiling, and this time the dazed look in Merlin's eyes made perfect sense, and Arthur could do nothing less than grab him and ruffle his hair unmercifully.

Merlin came up grinning, of course, naturally, because that was how the world worked, how they worked, and everyone was here, near enough, and how could he have been so stupid...

"I remember! I remember everything, Merlin!" And he faltered a little at that, because he did, and there were horrible things in their shared pasts as well as marvellous ones. But it didn't stop him. They were young, and they were alive, and they were together again, at last.

Merlin's eyes were still appallingly damp, but Arthur supposed he could forgive him, just this once, and hooked him in by his neck, before resting his forehead on the messy thatch by his ear.

"Is it everyone, Merlin?" he asked, whispering it against his neck, "Are we all here? Even my father?" And he held his breath.

Arthur felt one of Merlin's arms came stealing round his waist, feeling right this time, feeling wonderful. "It's all of us, Arthur. There's a Mr Uther Pendragon who has just discovered that his daughter Ygraine had a son, before she died in the workhouse. He's looking for him now."

Merlin turned his head, until Arthur's lips were sliding to his temple, until he couldn't help but kiss the delicate skin there. He was trembling just a little too, Arthur noticed, and knew that it meant Merlin thought he'd leave.

"It's up to you," said Merlin, softly, as if Arthur didn't know it. He knew everything now.

He wouldn't let Merlin down.


End file.
